The Not So Suite Life of Zack
by youngandj
Summary: Young Zack, when confronted with the loss of his love, buried himself away and sought only the means to escape. Now older and heavily burdened with his past's anguish, he struggles to merely exist in a world he does not, and never will, belong in anymore.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Disney's TV show series "The Suite Life of Zack & Cody." I only own my own characters that I have included in this fanfic (who will show up later on).

A/N: Rated M+ for use of drugs, alcohol, and profanity.

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The Not So Suite Life of Zack

- Prologue -

I sat down on my bed and scratched my head. My hair that was usually down and fell in long strands over my forehead had been hacked short just a week ago. While my twin brother Cody is still a mere five feet and some odd inches, I tower over him by at least a head and a half. I've grown tired of my childish ways. Seems as though it was just yesterday that I was asking girls out on dates (_while I was on dates with other girls_) and breaking hearts right and left. I was a jerk, I admit it. But then again, I was young and stupid. I didn't know any better.

My brother tells me that I'm still a playboy. He told me that playboys never change, can't or won't. Maybe he's wrong because these past few years have changed me. But I don't know what started my reckless behavior in the first place. I reminisce on my life... an empty shell of a life anyhow: an absent father, a busy mother, an intelligent brother... I've always felt abandoned by my father, neglected by my mother, inferior to my brother. My friends were all honors students. They were going somewhere in life, and they knew where they were going. But I'm different in those matters. Perhaps I've lost many chances in messing up at school and stuff, but I guess good things come to those who wait.

I've been waiting for three years. Is it too late now?

_She's_ down there. Her bags are packed, her taxi's waiting, and her application's already been sent and accepted to Princeton in New Jersey. She could've gone to Harvard and studied law, but she hated boring stuff like that. Oh great. Mom just came in with the words of motherly wisdom, "Come on downstairs, Zack. Maddie's about to leave soon, and you don't want her to go without saying goodbye, do you?" I waved her away. I was thinking to myself, _She doesn't think of me like that. _Mom hugged me for no reason at all and said, as if she read my thoughts, "You'd better go down anyway. She's not coming back for a while, and you'll miss her."

So I did what she wanted me to do. As I was taking the elevator down, those strange butterflies in my stomach were gone. Maybe because I finally- _finally_ – got over that puppy love crush. Maybe because I finally realized that I don't stand a chance with her. Feeling pretty down, I put on my best smile and hugged her. I said words of good luck to her and congratulations, but I didn't mean any of that. I didn't want her to leave yet. But I stepped back and let the others have their turn at hugging her.

_I guess it's goodbye, Maddie._

As she took a step toward the door, she took one good look around. I couldn't stand to see her when I was hurting like this. I turned around and walked back to the elevator.

_If the world were perfect, you'd realize how much I still love you._


	2. Chapter 1

- Chapter 2 -

It's been about three months since I've last seen or even heard from Maddie. She sends letters to London, who apparently got into Harvard with her daddy's influence and financial support. She's the daughter of the owner of the entire Tipton Suites, a multimillionaire, but she doesn't have her father's insights. I didn't know London liked law, but she manages. Maddie also sent a few letters to Mom and the odd present for Cody and me. She still sends candy, chocolate, fruit, and other small stuff. I don't touch a crumb of food she sends, and I don't wear any of the clothes she thinks is "cute". Sometimes, late at night, I go outside of the Tipton just to get away, even if it's only for a few minutes. I never want to read the letters she sends to London, even though it's hard not to listen when London proclaims it out onto the lobby for the rest of the employers and unfortunate residents to hear. She can stay at any place she wants in the person, but she prefers her suite in some ditzy hotel in Boston. I don't really get that.

"Dear London," London would read and then clap her hands excitedly at the mention of her name. "Princeton is so awesome! The academics programs are challenging, but I've made a ton of friends here. They're really nice. We're all going Christmas shopping in a month. See you soon! P.S. the college boys here are to die for!" I'd absentmindedly shake my head every time the subject got to other guys. I wasn't jealous. I wasn't angry. I felt nothing. I was emotionally drained. I never felt happiness or joy or excitement anymore. I was listless, barely existing. But there was pain underneath all those layers of ice... all those layers of anger, there might be... love.

But that was a long time ago.

So I wake up in the morning, no fights with Cody, trudge to school, grow quickly uninterested, trudge home, and sleep. Lately, ever since I entered high school, I've been sleeping more than my body can take. I don't bother wasting my time trying to do homework or pay attention in class or even come up with get-rich-quick schemes with my brother. He and I are different people now. People who used to think it was impossible to separate us now wonder what was so interesting about us in the first place. We have different friends, different lifestyles, different feelings. Maybe I'm the one who has changed though. He still hangs out with the friends we knew when we were young, but me?

I usually wander aimlessly around Boston. Sometimes I stop by London's university and help out with whatever they need to do, be it a concert or a play. London sees me differently and treats me differently. She tells me how much I have "nurtured". She means matured. No, I don't think so. It's not maturity. It's this depression. It's killing me. Lately, I've gotten into the habit of not taking the bus back to the hotel. Though Tipton is like five miles off, the cold winter air makes me stay out there. London constantly worries, and I suspect that she's sent a few letters to Maddie about her concerns. I guess it doesn't really matter to me anymore.

Life isn't any harder; I've just grown softer.

When I sleep, I can't dream anymore. And if I do, they're tragic ones, dreams I cannot even bear to recall because they were so horribly depressing, I can't bring myself to remember them. Mom came in one morning after several of those mornings and said to me, "Zack, what's wrong?" I told her, simply, "Nothing." She sat down next to me on my bed and patted me on the shoulder. "Is this about Maddie? Because she's in Princeton now. She's eighteen, and she needs to live her own life. You need to let her go." Mom stood up to leave. As she was about to open the door, I stared at the ground and said hoarsely, "But what if... what if _I'm_ not over _her?_"

_Maybe I do still feel the same way._

I folded my hands and stared at the ground. I found my voice. "What if... I love her?" Mom looked suddenly disheartened as she said, "Oh Zack, you love her? I should've known." She wrapped her arms around me as she sat back down on the bed. She advised, "You can't, dear. She's eighteen, and she's well on her way of becoming a beautiful young lady and not to mention an adult. Zack, you're only fifteen. Three years may not make so much of a difference when you're twenty and she's twenty-three, but it does when you're still in high school and she's going to college. The age difference is just too much." I rubbed my hands together and found myself arguing in my defense, "Age isn't anything but a number, Mom. I learned that a long time ago."

Mom shook her head slowly and replied, "To you, maybe. You may think that three years is nothing now, but you'll soon realize how much time that really is. Just wait it out, honey. You know good things come to those who wait." I sighed, realizing my defeat. I said glumly, "I've been waiting since I was twelve, Mom. It's been three years already. But who I am kidding? She has a whole life ahead of her. And I'm just going to get in the way, just like I always did."

I stood up. As I reached for my jacket, she called out to me, "Zack, this conversation is not finished." I turned back to her and said distantly, "This conversation is finished, Mom. I don't have anything to say about this. But my life, my story, it's still here. And sometimes I just want to know how it ends, but I can't. I can't ever know how it ends." I was almost on the verge of tears. But Zack Martin _never_ cries, get it? Cody will. Mom maybe. Pa... okay, well I'll leave him out. But Zack? _Never_.

I headed for the door. Mom stood up and said firmly, "Zack Martin! You get back here this instant!" She was _peeved_, I could tell. I whirled around, slowly. Mom's hands were on her hips. She said a little angrily, "Since when did you learn how to sass me like that? You may have been a little troublemaker, but you were never a bad person. Since when did you become like this?" I didn't dare shrug. I replied softly, "I'm not the same kid I was three years ago. People change, Mom."

Just then, Cody walked in. Talk about unexpected events. Mom grabbed Cody in mid-air and said, "_Cody_ didn't change. How do you explain that?" I replied hesitantly, "Some people change, and some people don't. I've changed on the outside, but I'm still the same Zack on the inside. He just… can't get out right now." _Why don't I know the answer to this? _Cody looked bewildered as he asked, "What's happening? Why is Zack getting into trouble?" Mom shoved Cody away. She was furious now. Maybe because she suspects me of stalling.

"Zack Martin, you will answer the questions I'm asking! I'm just trying to save you!" She must've been desperate to admit that. But that's when I exploded, totally unintentionally. I yelled, "How can I tell you why I've changed when _I_ don't even know? How can I tell you about my life when _I_ can't even define _myself_? And how can _you_ save me, how can you _possibly_ even _think_ of saving me, when _I_ can't even save _myself_?" There was a stunned, awkward silence. I'm not prone to arguing back with Mom, but these days have been so lonely. I yelled out in anger, "I don't even know who I am anymore! I've lost my identity, and I can't find my way back into this world! Can't you see how scarred I am? Can't you see I want to be the old me, but the old me can't get out because of me?" I almost broke down right there and then. But Cody was there, and I just can't break down with my little brother there, even if we _are_ twins. Then I left the room, the whole while thinking to myself, _How I wish you knew how I felt inside. How I wish you could understand._


	3. Chapter 2

- Chapter 2 -

As I clambered out of the elevator, I ran into the hotel manager, Mr. Moseby, hired by London's father out of sheer absentmindedness I presume. As usual, he scowled at the sight of me and complained, "Why can't you a quieter person, like your brother perhaps?" I got the hint, but I didn't back talk to Mr. Moseby. He puts up with me even when I was unbearable. All I did was mutter, "Whatever," before leaving the Tipton.

_I need to run away from here._

I stared down the snow-covered sidewalks as I walked through huddled groups of people wearing thick coats. My jacket was flimsy and thin, but the cold air on my body was a constant reminder of who I was. Or who I've become. After a few minutes when I figured Mom or Cody wouldn't be coming out to drag me back in, I set on foot to Harvard. Maybe there was some stuff to do there to get my mind off what had just happened. I mean, c'mon, that was my _first_ rebellious fight with Mom. So I entered the campus on my own and walked over to London's dormitory in Harvard. I don't know why she even _hangs around_ the "slums", as she calls it, like the Tipton, but she has money, lots of it, so nobody ever complains, least of all me.

I knocked on the door to her dorm. Someone yelled from inside, "Door's open!" I opened the door and went in, only to be met with clothes shoved in my face. Someone said to me in a very muffled yet peeved voice, "About time, London! I have a practice hearing in two hours, and you're _late_?" I manage to mumble out, "It's not London; it's me, Zack." I felt the clothes falling from my instinctively outstretched arms. It was Mary Margaret, one of Maddie's many logical friends. Mary got into Harvard with her intelligence because she wasn't exactly as rich as London. _Okay_, she was dirt poor like Maddie, but since Maddie was off at Princeton, Mary had no choice but to buddy it with London. Not that it was a _bad_ thing or anything... after all, London _was_ loaded.

"Could you help me organize some of these clothes?" she asked while she pulled the rest of the clothes off my arms. As I started hanging the clothes, I asked Mary where London was. She replied, "You and I are in this together." Apparently, she had no idea. London was probably out shopping which is my guess. Mary suggested that London was hooking up with a guy. Maybe, but I kind of doubt it. London, sometimes lacking common sense, would object picking up guys just from _anywhere_. She's wealthy, right? She has class. Just like Maddie. Well, except for the wealth part. Mary asked me, interrupting my placid thoughts, "What about you, Zack? Why'd you come _here_, of all places?" I shrugged and lied easily, "Community service." She did her best to conceal that double take. I get it. They all think that I'm still that troublemaking playboy I once was. I saw the worry lines etched in her face. _So she knows, _I thought. _Let them know._

Maybe I'm not the same little kid I was three or four years ago. Maybe I don't chase around my childish fetishes, and maybe I don't ever have those plans for ingenious heists. Maybe I don't have all those things. I've lost them holding onto a dream. Mary looked at me and said gently, cautiously, "You should be hanging out with your friends. It's a snow day, right? Why aren't you out already lugging snowballs at each other?" _Friends?_ Okay, I see where this was going. So I left. But she didn't look too happy when I did. Perhaps she envisioned something better for me, a better life. But when Maddie left, a part of me left with her. Maybe they're right; maybe we really aren't meant to be. But then why does my heart ache so much? Even when I keep telling myself, even when I keep yelling at myself that I'm better than this! Stand up, and be a man! Nobody's looking out for you! You have to look out for yourself!

But then why are these tears falling down? Why the hell am I still here, standing in a lonely street with snow falling down? Why do I have to feel this way?

But the question that causes me the most pain..._ why aren't you here?_

_Why aren't you here, Maddie? Why did you leave me here all alone?_

_I need you in my life because I'm nothing._

_That's all I can ever be without you._


	4. Chapter 3

- Chapter 3 -

So I took Mary's advice. I stopped going to Harvard for "community service". For one full year, I started hanging with "friends" who didn't know who I was or even knew my name. They were just there. Standing at the corner of Central and Seventh, I was there with people who could see the anger in my eyes, that I was just trying to get away. They said nothing to me. But they invite me to parties with girls... and alcohol. I get wasted, and they laugh at me. They tell me that I'm much more liable for excitement when I'm plastered. I stay out all night with nameless, faceless girls and my laughing buddies.

I don't come home drunk. When I'm still tipsy, I don't even come home at all.

This quiet energy of mine that burned inside of me... I release it in this way. Sometimes, looking in the eyes of some girl, I forget Cody's name or how much Mom had loved me and sacrificed for me. I think of Dad... and I think of how he abandoned me. I think of all that was lost between us, all the times that he couldn't make up. Was it Mom's fault? Was it Dad's? But in the end, it doesn't matter anymore. In the end, I'm still the one stumbling in half-drunk in the morning to the darkened Tipton Suites, clearly out of my mind. I'm still the one that can't seem to get out of this abyss. And Zack - the innocent former shadow of myself – stares back at me through the mirror and shakes his head. And I scream, _Don't shake your head at me! You don't even know me!_ And when he turns around, losing all hope and faith in me, I'm screaming at him, _Don't you dare turn your back on me! Don't you dare give up on me!_

But he's gone. And I guess he doesn't want to come out anymore. So I kick it with the boys who don't care about the place they have to go home to, the people they call their parents, or the things that give them a purpose in their lives. I'm emotionless. I'm unreadable, the thin line of a smile that I give to myself. Hennessy tells me who I am. But I'm more than this. So why do I keep falling back every time the streets call my name?

When there's no one there, no boys, no alcohol; I wander the streets alone. I see younger kids with their parents shopping. I see lovers holding onto each other as they walk and smile. _That could be me_, I say to myself. _That could've been me._

Mom lost her trust in me. So many times she's tried to lock me in my room, but so many times I've gotten out. So many times she stares at me without words to say, as if she can't even recognize me anymore. I don't blame her. If I were here, I'd hate me too. Cody... he's the innocent twin, the one who won't succumb to such things I have. Cody is more understanding. He tries to help me, even though he doesn't know anything that I've done or am doing, but he tries to understand. But this world has gotten too cold, and while Cody's offering me a jacket, a lifeline, I've grown too proud to take it.

_Give me one shot, and I'll be better in the morning_, I say to my friends. They tell me I'll have a hangover tomorrow, but I don't care. I can't even breathe anymore without wondering if this will be my last breath. I've missed out on so much. Today was Cody's birthday. I picked up a beanie, just something I thought he wanted. I handed him the very poorly wrapped package. I said, "Happy 16th, Cody." He just stared at me as if he was surprised at what I was doing. When I returned his stare with a confused stare of my own, he reminded me that it was my birthday too. _So?_ He didn't say anything then. I walked away, leaving him standing there, holding that package.

Sometimes I wish I had never been born at all.

Later that night, I went to go meet a few people. We were out to get wasted again, the night of my birthday, the story of my life. We celebrated my birthday, though nobody knew it but me.

The sound of laughter is all I remember.


	5. Chapter 4

- Chapter 4 -

The last thing I did last night was me exhaling cold air. It was dark, and the snow was heavy. I remembered voices calling out my name and falling... slowly falling. When I awoke, I saw distant and blurry faces around me. I was in a hospital cot.

"Where am I?" I called out to anyone who could hear me. _Someone listen to me_. My voice sounded crack and groggy, a voice I couldn't recognize. I started shaking, and sudden memories of some cold, distant freeze made me shiver. My breathing became intensely faster. _What the hell is happening to me? _I started panicking. The walls... the ceilings... they were all closing in on me. Someone was speaking to me. Someone was yelling at me and shaking me. _Wake up, Zack! Wake up!_ But I couldn't understand what they were saying. And I was screaming back at them. I was yelling, "What are you saying? I don't understand what you're saying!" Someone was crying. Someone in the corner was crying.

"I don't understand what you're saying!"

_Somebody help me!_

"What language are you speaking?" I yelled. Then there was silence. And I closed my eyes and slowly drifted back to the world of where I didn't feel any pain, a world I could call my home.

_I was struggling at the edge of hope, and I was yelling for someone to save me. But this whole time while I wasn't waving, I was drowning._

_I was drowning._

_And I don't know what to do anymore._


	6. Chapter 5

- Chapter 5 -

The nurse told me I was in the hospital for three days. She told me I was in an accident. I was _knocked out_ that day though. I barely remember anything. I fell asleep again. I awoke - what seemed like a day later – and asked for water. Someone handed me a bottle; a girl's hand, very small, very fragile handed me the bottle. When I took the bottle, the hand retracted slowly. I held onto her arm with my other hand.

"Max?" My voice was hoarse but quiet; it was different than I would've expected. I looked up and saw the eyes of a very familiar, very disappointed girl in front of me. She had a frown on her face. I set the bottle aside. I tried to sit up straight on the bed. But my chest was hurting like it was on fire, and I quickly sank back into the bed. I felt the patches and tubes all over my chest and arms under my shirt. _What have I done?_ My fingertips brushed softly against the long, white, split-open scar on my chest that ran down to my stomach.

Max pulled her arm away from my touch and explained to me that I was staggering across the street in a stupor. She assumed I was faded when I tripped and fell before I even got to the intersection. She had helped me up, and when she smelled the alcohol on my breath, her thoughts were confirmed. But I wasn't myself that night. When she tried to touch me, that touch registered as pain, and I couldn't let her make contact with me. She told me I must've been so scared. But then, and her eyes narrowed when she spoke, a group of very drunk boys walked over to where Max and I were and tried to take advantage of her. I lost control then and fought them, one against four. They pushed Max out into the crosswalk where a startled driver didn't slam on the brakes quick enough to avoid hitting someone. That someone was me, how I raced against time to push her out of harm's way.

I could've died. She looked at me and touched both my hands and said, "Why would you do that for me? We aren't even friends anymore." I said matter-of-factly, "But we were." Her brows furrowed deeper and she said to me, "You've changed, Zack." I nodded. _I have. _Her grip on my hands tightened as she folded her fingers into mine. Small tears slid down her cheeks, something I have _never_ seen before in my life, as she whispered, "You're still in there. But something out here won't let you get out. You used to fight it all the time. I saw how you struggled." _Did I? _She was crying more silently as she said, "But you're giving up now." She looked at me with a look of pain as she shook her head. "And I don't know why." I brushed her tears away with the sleeve of my shirt.

When she went to the restroom, I found myself asking the same question. _Why? Why did I give up? Was it because I just didn't care anymore? Or because losing was inevitable? _I touched my face. It felt drained and rough, the same as my hands felt. She came back and sat next to me. I said nothing. She looked away and said, "You put people first now. The way you stepped out to take the car to put me out of that situation... I don't know if your instincts would've told you do that a couple years ago." I replied, "Maybe I've grown up." Maybe, she said. Someone knocked on the door. She got off the bed and reached for the door. Then she paused.

She looked at me as I turned away and said, "You're better than this, Zack. I don't know why you can't see that." Staring at the blanket, I almost broke down. But instead, I swallowed in everything and replied, "I don't know why I can't see it either." Max shook her head. She said, "She's coming down here too." When I didn't say anything, she added, "You know who I'm talking about. She's coming down especially for you." I said emotionlessly, "I don't want to see her." Max gave me a look and said, "Zack..." I didn't explode this time. I was too tired then. I just shook my head and said, "Send her in here, and I'll collapse. I can't take her anymore than I can take this." She just stared at me with her sad eyes as she said sharply, "Don't do anything stupid, Zack." I gave her a small, curt wave. She walked out the door.

_I guess I'll see you when I see you._

Later, Mom and Cody came in. I didn't want to see them. I didn't want to put up with Mom and her lectures on life and college. But I let them in anyway. I was her son, and I almost died. She deserves to know if I was okay in the head still so she can beat on it. I almost went unconscious again with Mom wringing my neck trying to hug me. She was

crying, and her tears splashed all over me. Cody wasn't dropping tears, much to my surprise. He stood, nonchalant about it. Mom wasn't even the _least_ bit concerned with my stupidity; she only cared about how I almost died. I was in shock, but apparently, Cody wasn't. I asked Mom between hugs, "Why aren't you mad at me, Mom? I was a terrible son. I did bad things and made you worried all the time. Why do you still love me?" She embraced me as she stroked my hair and said to me, "Because you are my son, Zack. No matter what say, you are still my son, and I am still your mother. Like in the parable of the prodigal son, the father had said, 'For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.'"

I gave her a blank stare. Cody broke out grinning and said, "Now, _that's_ the Zack I remember: the what-the-heck-are-you-talking-about look." I couldn't help but grin too. Mom smiled through her tears. I think I am blessed to have this family. Though I hurt them, they still stood by me even when I was wrong. As they continued to hug me and talk about how happy they were to see me, all I could think was, _I'm home._

_I'm finally home. Dry your eyes, Mom, I'm not leaving for a long time now._


	7. Chapter 6

- Chapter 6 -

Someone knocked on the door. We looked up. It was Dad who looked really uncomfortable. Mom and Cody left right there and then. I suppose Dad wanted to talk to me about something important. As soon as Mom and Cody were out of the room, Dad closed the door. He wasn't glaring or giving any warnings of a furious explosion, but I was still hesitant about giving him the benefit of the doubt. He had a very strange expression on his face, something I couldn't quite make out. It was very squirmy and scrunched up like he was trying to hide something but wasn't doing a very good job at it. He stared at his loafers.

I broke the silence. I asked him, "Is there something you want to say to me, Dad?" He seemed startled to hear my voice. He almost jumped out of his skin. He was really jittery. When I saw his face for the first time in a while, I saw wrinkles of worry lines and mussed up hair. His eyes were kind of bloodshot as if he had stayed up all night or if he had cried, or maybe he had stayed up all night crying. His hands were jammed in his pockets.

"Zack," he began. And then he stopped. He was still at the door and had returned to staring at the ground. "Zack, I'm sorry. This is all my fault." I asked, surprised, "_Your_ fault? How is this_ your_ fault?" He swallowed and answered, "All those stories of the crazy nightlife, the crazy sin cities, all those It's-okay-to-act-like-a-rock-star speeches. All those roach roost hotels and the alcohol and the parties. All those things I've influenced you with. How could I have been so _stupid? _How could I have been so _blind_ as to not see my own son falling to the same things I had?"

I almost laughed. I'm the one who gets drunk, and he blames _himself?_ Go figure. I said to him, "Don't beat yourself over it, Dad. It's not your fault. I'm the one who made the decisions to go to parties with girls and drink. Not Mom. Not Cody. And definitely not you. You're never even around, Dad. How could it possibly be _your_ fault?" He seemed relieved at first until he asked suspiciously, "But what about all those stories? All that fame and fortune opportunities?" I shook my head and said, "Those are great stories and all, but I don't actually _believe_ in all that pauper-to-prince fairytales. They're nice dreams when I sleep, but I know they're not real." He looked at me and finally cracked a smile. He reached over and scuffed up my hair, saying, "That's my boy. That's my Zackster."

I guess he only came to clear his conscious with me. Like he always did. He only came around to see me because of his own guilt, to boost his own self-centered ego. He's quite a guy, my Dad. I don't hate him though. I hate having to put up with him, but I don't hate him in particular. It isn't entirely _his_ fault that Mom got fed up with him. As soon as Dad left, I was able to breathe again. Dad smokes cigarettes, and I couldn't get a whiff of air edgeways with all his talking and mumbling. Ironic, eh? I could stand the smell of gin and juice, but I can't be around a guy who _smokes._

My mood cleared up considerably. Instead of being that sour, depressed kid, I'm actually looking forward to the day I go home, although I'm pretty sure a lot of people back home won't be too pleased to hear that I'm returning. But I guess that's their problem. I had to stay at the hospital for a week though. The doctor explained that I hadn't fully recovered from the accident, and I needed time to rest and take care of my body before I mess it up again. He actually said that too. Whatever to him. Today was only Thursday, but the doctor said I could go home on Saturday. Only one more day to go. I think I could go all the way without actually _going all the way, _hopefully.

Maybe there is some good in me after all.


	8. Chapter 7

- Chapter 7 -

Today, Friday, was not going to be a good day. There were only two weeks until Christmas, and the snow was the reminder to the people outside. It was a blizzard out there. The minute I woke up, I had to throw up. I lit out of my bed and ran to the restroom right next to me and chucked it all out. The doctor gave me some antibiotics to take care of my stomach, but it didn't feel any better. To be honest, I felt like I was getting punished for something. I should be; I've done so much. Max came to see me again, and this time she was with Cody. They looked like they were _together. _I commented on this with one raised eyebrow, "You guys are dating now? How much did I miss while I was out?" Maybe the good Zack was coming out again; I could tell the humor was definitely old and familiar.

Max gave me a look and said, "Shut up, Zack. You know I only go for guys who are actually cool." Cody piped up loudly, "Hey!" But he was grinning like a Jack-o-lantern. I asked again, just to be on the safe side, "So you guys aren't dating then?" Max snorted as she said, "Cody? A date?" I agreed with her, "I guess you're right. I mean, I have to have a heart attack and be in a coma for Cody to have a _date_." Cody laughed too because, probably, he thought this was the way I deal with things. I don't. This is how I deal with _not_ dealing with things. I don't speak of them. I bury them away. Max and Cody were lenient toward me and my "amnesia"... it's the lack of knowledge from not being around for so long. I doubt the alcohol impaired any of that. I did what I did to forget, but I can't forget. Not all this.

Max was casual about everything, but Cody was _really_ edgy. He kept looking toward the door, and his eyes were alert all the time. He kept scanning the room, and every time I spoke, he jumped up startled as if he didn't expect me to be so direct. He reminded me of someone, but it wasn't me. I was more laid-back than him. He was like a drug dealer, the way his eyes were constantly bouncing from one object to another, unsure of who to trust and who to do away with. I kept expecting something to bounce out of nowhere.

"Cody?" He almost jumped out of his skin. I turned to Max for answers, but she started looking a little nervous herself. I began, "What's going-" and was cut off by a couple knocks on the door. Cody was already up and at the door before my mind began to piece in all the clues together and string up an explanation. But it was too _soon_ for them to be calling in reinforcements. And I still haven't "recovered" yet. The door opened a crack as Cody whispered something to the mysterious person behind that slab of wood. He turned around and quickly closed the door behind him. He gestured to Max. I looked at them confused. Max paused before saying hesitantly, "Zack, there's someone outside who wants to see you."

"No." My voice was tight, something I barely recognized. It was an instant answer, but Max's eyes grew deeper in a frown because she expected it. Cody stepped in and said, "She wants to see you, Zack. She wanted to see you for a long time." I scoffed and replied, "It's only been a year. She'll get over it." I couldn't even _believe_ what I was saying. _She'll get over it?_ She'll get over _what?_ Max explained to me, "As soon as she heard about your accident, she wanted to come right away, but..." Max looked at me apologetically as if what she was going to say next would confirm everything I had thought falsely of. "Well," Max began. She cleared her throat and then said, "She was busy." I shook my head and scoffed again. I said to no one in particular, incredulously, "She was _busy?_ I almost die, and she's too _busy_ to come up here?" When no one said anything, I continued in the same tone, "That is _just_ like her. She's always too busy to care about my well-being. Because I'm still a kid, right? Still the same immature Zack I've always been, right? Is that why she was still in New Jersey for an extra week?" All my anger, all my frustration, everything that I have focused on trying to forget was released at that moment. It would've gone on further too. But then I heard a voice.

"No." I didn't hear it too clearly, so I didn't bother to turn around and pay attention to the voice that said it. "I only stayed that extra week to take my midterms."

Somehow, Max and Cody disappeared, and the room seemed smaller than usual. I didn't want to turn around and see her. She was the reason for my torment, the poison to my dreams, the cause of my restlessness.

_But you missed her. That's why you did those things. Because you couldn't bear to miss her anymore._

After _one year?_ You've got to be kidding me. I didn't miss her. I didn't miss anyone.

_You loved her. You still do._

So I turned around, and I saw her. She was there. She wasn't smiling, but she was still so beautiful. Who am I fooling? I've missed her so much. I even thought I loved her. Maybe that's why it hurt so much when she left.

"Zack..." She looked at me with those sad, brown eyes. She walked over to me slowly and cautiously as if she didn't know how to approach this kind of situation. I traced her eyes, and for the first time in my life, I saw what she saw. I saw an innocent boy inside a ruthless one that wanted to get out. I saw the tubes, the scars, the bruises, the hurts, the pain, and all the stuff I did. But I couldn't get out. I just couldn't get out. And it was killing me. Maddie came over to me and touched my cheek with two fingers. She whispered, "What did you do to yourself?" I looked away from her gaze. I said softly, "Nothing that can't be fixed." When she said nothing, I stumbled on words. I feigned interest in regaining my composure as I assured her, "Don't worry about me though. You know me; I'm a fighter. Every time I get knocked out, I get back on my feet again. You'll see." She wasn't too convinced about that. But I suddenly felt lightheadedI was talking to the girl that I had only dreamed about in those three years I couldn't have her. And she was here now. In front of me. Touching my cheek.

I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, she was staring straight at me. I lifted my shirt to rub my almost-wet eyes; that's when she caught a glimpse of my scar from the impact of the car. She gasped as she held the shirt up, and, with her other hand, ran her fingertips slowly down the scar. I winced, and though I felt the white-hot intensity of the pain, I held myself back in. _It's only for a second, _I told myself. _It's just a scar. _But the way she looked at it and the way she looked at me... it was more than just a scar. It was even more then the year she was gone. It was a whole lifetime of Zack Martin that she was no longer a part of it.

She turned away from me. With her back facing me, she explained to me how she had heard about what happened. Mom had called her in New Jersey describing exactly what went down. She talked of how terrified Mom was. Maddie turned to me again, and she had a frown on her face like she wanted to proceed with telling me how irrational my behavior had become and how heartless I was. _I know._ But something stopped her. She stroked my short hair and remarked casually, "You've changed a lot in a year. You don't even look like a twin anymore." I said, "Yeah. I've grown taller too." But my mind wasn't focused on what exactly she was saying but on what she _wasn't_ saying. And the questions that I was dying to ask.

_Did you miss me while you were gone? Did you even think about me?_

I hope so. She said to me, "I know you're a better person than who you appear to be, Zack. I know there is still good inside of you." As she pulled her hand away from my hair, she looked like she was ready to cry. She started hugging me. She was pressing into my chest scar and all the other hits I had from the accident. Even though it was _killing_ me to be hugged, I hugged her back with all my might. Even though she's three years older than me and four states away, just for this moment in time, we were the same. I whispered to her, "Don't you hate me too, Maddie?"

"No," she replied as she hugged me tighter. "I hate who you've become."

"Me too," I said as I accepted her vice grip. And finally – _finally_ – after all this time that I was searching, I found myself in the arms of a girl that I had thought left for good. But Maddie? No. _No._

"Me too."


	9. Chapter 8

- Chapter 8 -

I was released today. The whole ride home, I felt a feeling of content. I was finally free. When I arrived at the Tipton front doors, there was a lobby filled with all the people I used to know. There was a big banner that read, "Welcome Home, Zack!" There were balloons, streamers, and a bunch of people with big smiles on their faces. I saw the red hair before anyone else. Bob made his way to me. He was grinning and holding a paper cup of something. He toasted it to me and said, "To my buddy Zack for getting better." As soon as he finished taking a sip, he said, "It's been pretty boring without you. Now I can finally start ignoring Cody talk about his academics honors program and start listening to you and your evil schemes." He wiggled his eyebrows at me and walked away. None of this even clicked in my head.

_Did I really miss that much?_

Bob went back to talking to some girls. Through the midst, London saw me and ran over to me like the rich person she was. She almost began questioning why I was here until she saw Maddie. They hugged and smiled and exchanged secret glances of I-told-you-so's. But it's not over yet. Not by a long shot. There was still some business I had to take care of.

Mr. Moseby patted me on the back and said, "You had a speedy recovery there, Zack. Congratulations. I hope you have a wonderful stay at the Tipton Suites." He was grinning like he always was in pretending to kick me out. I actually managed a small smile back at him. When the big party was over, I went back to my suite. It looked _exactly_ the same. I went back to my side of the room, ripped off my shirt, and flopped on my bed. It felt so warm and so comfortable. Most nights when I was hung over, I slept at a buddy's apartment flat on the ground. Cody walked in. He took one look at me and commented on my appearance, "You haven't changed a bit. I bet you're still lazy and a _major_ procrastinator." I shook my head and replied, "Nah, I've changed. I'm so quiet and neat, it's scary. You'll hardly notice I'm here." He replied, surprising distant, "I'm used to that already."

_Are you?_

I looked closely at him, trying to recall what he just said. But his eyes went quiet, and I guess he went back to that dark abyss that occupied his time when I wasn't around. I know that place. _I know that place. _I threw something at him and said, "Get out of it, Cody." He looked up at me with those wide, innocent eyes that I remembered so much. He said oh so quietly, "It's been a really long time since we last talked like this face-to-face." _Did you miss me that much?_ I replied slowly, "I'm sorry." Cody hung his head and said to me bitterly, "It's my fault. I always had premonitions that you were going to end up on the streets somehow or in jail. I always encouraged your behavior because I didn't do anything to stop it." _You did?_ I almost laughed. I said, "Don't give yourself so much credit. Hardly anybody listens to you, let alone me." I continued more firmly than ever, "I ended up on the streets because of me and no one else. Nobody put me out there. Nobody kicked me out. I went there alone. Cody, you can only influence me, but you couldn't have done what happened to me. That happened because I brought it on myself. You can't be responsible for my actions." He nodded along my words and looked at me with this newfound respect for me.

"You've changed, Zack," he said. I laughed and replied, "I know, I know. Everybody keeps telling me that. Is that a bad thing?" He shook his head and said, "No. You've matured. I don't think anyone's too angry about it, but you've grown up a lot quicker than I assumed you would." He walked over to me and handed me the soft baseball pillow that I had thrown at him. He sat down next to me. As he gestured to the bathroom, he said, "Take a good look in the mirror, and tell me what you see." I went to the bathroom mirror. A t-shirt, jeans, sneakers. Nothing new. Short hair, tall height, holes through my earlobes. I lifted my shirt and turned around. Some words in ink on my left upper-back bone area caught my eye. It read: "orbis non sufficit." A cross. Dates. Nothing else. What did that mean? I turned away. I could not remember – or even bear to remember – how I got the ink.

_This was my life?_

Before I could think of anything else, Cody walked in. He stood beside me, and that's when I saw how different we were. For one, I was about a head taller than him. My hair was much shorter than his too; while mine took on the manlier look, his looked more like a child's. And the fact that Cody was skinny as a twig and it looked like I had tried to work out didn't make anything better. I had this blank stare on my face as Cody turned to face me. He said softly, "We don't even look like brothers anymore." I touched my face which felt rough under my fingers; it felt strange. I said hoarsely, in spite of all these physical changes, "We're _twins_, Cody," as if that would've made any difference. He merely shook his head and answered me, "Not on the outside; not anymore at least." He brushed my shoulder gently. He added, quietly than ever, "Maybe not on the inside either." I turned to him and stared him down eye-to-eye, which was harder to do now since I was taller than him. I thumped my chest with my knuckle and tried to convince him, "We're the same in here, Cody. I'm exactly the same person in here. The Zack inside of me hasn't changed. The Zack you knew is still in here." And then Cody looked at me with his sad, brown eyes.

"Then why don't you let him out?"


	10. Chapter 9

- Chapter 9 -

When I awoke the next morning, it was snowing heavily. Christmas was right around the corner. Technically, it was in two weeks, but the blizzards never let up for the countdown yet. _Great_. I awoke by myself; nobody was in the room. I got up, rubbed my eyes, and instantly shivered. I put on a coat and walked out of the room. Mom wasn't home either. But it was _Monday. _Today was a weekday for school. Where is everybody? I was about to walk out the front door when someone's hand reached out and grabbed my arm. I don't spook that easily. I haven't seen a horror film yet that could make me jump out of my seat. But that physical connection was so warm, it frightened me a little. I knew that there was no way that could've been Mom.

"You just got up?" It was Maddie on the couch. I just nodded. Before I had a chance to ask, Maddie explained, "Your mom had to go work, so she asked me to baby-sit you." I grinned involuntarily and said, "Just like Mom. I'm almost seventeen now and graduating high school, and she still treats me like I'm twelve." Maddie managed a small grin. She looked at me from top to bottom as if she was sizing me up. She probably was. She whistled a small pitch and said, "You're seventeen now? Where did those years go?" I shrugged. I answered her, "You should know by now that I wouldn't have remembered even half of those two years you were gone." Maddie looked sad then, and I almost wished I could take back what I had just said. I didn't mean to remind her. I didn't mean to point fingers. But would I have really undergone all these changes if she had been there with me during those awkward teenage years? I'll never know the answer to that question.

She said to me slowly and apologetically, "I'm sorry that I haven't come to visit you guys up here since I went to college." I waved that away and replied, "Don't worry about it. You weren't the only one anyhow. Everyone was always busy, always got things to do. I don't blame them. If I had an agenda, I wouldn't have wasted my time here either." She scrunched up her nose in confusion – so freaking _cute_, I almost forgot _how _cute – and asked me, "What do you mean too busy? The employees are actually busy doing something?" I was about to answer her when someone knocked on the door.

"Room service!" I stood up, confused. I mumbled, more to myself than to anyone else, "I didn't order any room service." I unlocked the door. Maddie cried out surprised, "Esteban!" and sprang out of the couch to mangle him in a hug. And apparently, it really _was_ Esteban. _Damn, Esteban changed a lot, _I thought to myself. Then I felt guilty because I hadn't even concerned myself with Esteban over these past two years. It's just that he's always been so _busy_ that he hardly had time to breathe without getting a dime docked from his paycheck. He had an armload of fresh white towels and was struggling to hand them over to me while trying to push Maddie off him as well. She was just so happy to see him. I felt a pang of jealousy. And then I thought to myself, _I'm jealous of a bellhop? Wow, I need to get out more._ No offense or anything. Esteban had helped me and my brother out of some really tight spots back then, and I still owe him to this day.

When he finally handed me the towels, he seemed more relieved than usual. I set the towels down on the table. Maddie asked him, "Wait, Esteban, why are _you_ performing room service duties? Aren't you a bellhop?" Esteban explained, "There are not enough employees, so the remaining few have to do everyone else's jobs until business goes back up." Maddie put her hands on her hips and said, "Why, what's wrong with Tipton?" Esteban cleared his throat and said, "A lot has changed since you were gone. Mr. Tipton has been losing a lot of business ever since the owner his rival, the owner of the St. Mark Hotel across the street, expanded his own empire to other countries in Europe. Mr. Tipton tried to regain control of the industry, but he lost a lot of money while doing it." He sighed. "He might have to consider selling his stocks and even this place to maintain his financial status, but that's going to be quite a challenge." Even _I _was surprised. I had been hearing rumors about the whole Tipton versus St. Mark deal, but I had no idea that it was _that_ serious. Maddie was downright shocked.

"Ohmygosh!" she exclaimed. "How is Mr. Moseby taking this?" Esteban shrugged and answered, "I suppose he's managing, if that's what you call it. But if Mr. Tipton sells this place, we're all out of jobs." He looked at me meaningfully and then added, "And also out of homes." Maddie shook her head and said, "I don't even want to _think_ about how London is taking this." We all know how _that _went last time. Esteban sighed as he said, "Well, I have to get going before Mr. Moseby starts yelling at me for wasting time. There have been tons of special guests arriving from all over the world to increase popularity for the Tipton, and I need to go tend to them." He tipped his bellhop cap at Maddie and said, "It was nice seeing you again, Maddie." He clapped me on the back lightly and began, "And you..." He paused for a moment to break in a grin as if he had just recognized I was there and continued, "Nice seeing you too, Zack. Take care of yourself, you hear?" He nodded his head as he took one good look at me before walking out the door.

Maddie smiled sadly and said, "Looks like everything has changed around here, even the people." I shook my head and replied to her, "Not everything. People, maybe, but not everything." She couldn't hold my gaze as she broke away from it. I was closer to her. _Too close. _But she saw that too. Before I could make a single move, she gently pushed me away. She confessed quickly, "I don't feel the same way you do." Before I could say anything, she said softly, "Let's hold it off for now. Let's just see where this takes us." _I can't be satisfied with that._ I grabbed her shoulders lightly and pulled her toward me. I stared into her eyes and said, "That's not good enough for me. I need to know... I've been dying to know all this time... do I... even stand a chance?" She asked me, almost whispering now, "Would you really wait for me?" I broke my grip and turned away from her. I couldn't see her face; I didn't want to read what she was thinking. I answered, distantly, "A lifetime."

She touched my fingertips with hers. Even though she released my fingers the instant she held on, I could see in her eyes. I could feel it in her words, the ones she said and the ones she didn't say.

_Whatever you want. If it takes me a lifetime to be with you, a lifetime it is. No more, no less._


	11. Chapter 10

- Chapter 10 -

As we took the elevator downstairs, we didn't talk to each other or even look at each other. I wouldn't say that it was an awkward moment so much as it was sad. _She asked me to wait. Okay, I'll wait. I've waited a little less than five years; one more year isn't going to make a difference._ I just wanted a chance. We went down, and we joked about Maddie's old jobs to pay her first year tuition fee for college. We talked about school and college. She asked me typical questions like "How are you doing in school?", "How are your grades?", "What college do you want to apply for?", and etc. The truth was that I wasn't doing so hot at school. My grades were killing for a curve. And college? Not something I'm striving about, apparently. My guidance counselor often repeated himself in advising me to change my ways now so I could get into college. I'm a _senior_ now. I ditched class _all the time_, so what's the point of trying now? Maddie obviously didn't share my thoughts; she had opinions of her own as she voiced them out to me. You need to get your head back in focus, mister, she said. You need to start studying your butt off. I laughed at her "suggestions" and told her, It's too late for me. I've already screwed up. I accept it. I was headed down for a junior college and jail anyway.

She eyed me carefully. She asked me, "What are you going to do with your life?" I wanted to shrug. I wanted to act as though my dreams were insignificant. But I couldn't. Not to Maddie. Not to her. I said to her without even thinking anything over, "I wanted to be a freelancing writer." She nodded and said, "Hey, that's good: an honest day's job. Wait, what do you mean you wanted-?" Her eyes narrowed. I replied, "You know how it is when you dream up stuff. It was just a dream. It was just something I thought about to distract me from other stuff." _Like you_, I almost said. Cautiously, she approached the subject with a single question, "So, do you like English class then?" I shrugged. _Whatever. It doesn't matter, does it?_ She was at a loss of words then. I read her face from the corner of my eye; I could see that she was racking her brain to find something to say. Or was I reading her wrong? Did she already know what to say? Was she just struggling to make a decision on how to word it correctly or to even say it at all?

But she didn't say a single word after that. London saw her and snatched her away. I stuffed my hands into my pockets. Somehow I just felt oddly cold when she wasn't here beside me. What I did that day was a blur; I could barely remember what I even ate for breakfast let alone lunch or dinner. All I could think about was her telling me that I could wait, that I actually had a _chance_ with her for the _first_ time in my life. Maybe, just maybe, things could be better. I could be better.

The next day, Maddie, London, Mary Margaret, and this strange girl named Corrie who had this obsessive fetish over London all dragged me to London's limo and forced me to go shopping with them. I didn't exactly hold the largest penny collection, but it seemed more fun than staying home. I tried to bring Cody along too, but he was nowhere in sight. I probably went into more lingerie shops than any guy I know. _Damn, _I had no _idea_ that there were this many complications for girl's _underwear. _I have to say that I was embarrassed, but that feeling went away when all the girls held my arms. I must've looked like _some_ kind of playboy. To be frank, the familiar feelings hit me so hard with a rush of nostalgia that I had to balance myself carefully to not fall. Corrie was all over London about _everything._ Like for example, if London wanted a red shirt, Corrie wanted a red shirt. If London wanted blue jeans, Corrie wanted blue jeans. With the exception of boys, I think Corrie would've gotten every single thing London got if she had London's money, which I assume she secretly desires.

I didn't get anyone anything. I don't have London's money. I don't even have a job, or I didn't. I never paid attention to any of that stuff. I guess I should've though because I saw a piece of jewelry that caught Maddie's eye: a pearl necklace. The price hurt a bit though, considering that it was $500, and I only had a dollar to my name, give or take some pocket lint. As I was staring at the necklace even when the girls had moved on, Maddie noticed me. She grinned and said, in almost a singsong voice, "All your hard-earned snow-shoveling money will finally be put to good use." I smirked. I reached into my pocket and said, "Oh, sure, let me dig out a couple dimes in my pocket right here." She laughed and asked me, "What happened to all your money? I _know_ you had a secret stash. I used to baby-sit you, remember? Still underneath that teddy bear?" I grinned and said,"I didn't know you thought so much of me to look through my stuff." Maddie rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, please. You're not _that_ hard to figure out, pal. You had like twenty bucks under there and a few odd loose change. Not exactly London's trust fund, if you ask me." I gave her one of my million dollar smiles and said, "Who's asking?"

Before she could respond to my very quick wit, if I do say so myself, we were interrupted by the gang of girls returning with arms full of designer clothes. They dumped it all over me and Maddie, which totally knocked me off my balance. I pretty much landed on my face, but a pair of designer jeans broke my fall. Fortunately for me, due to the large amount of apparel all over me, nobody even noticed I had fallen. The girls were gabbing away about some cute Italian waiter they had spotted at the French café. _Okay, _I'm thinking to myself. _What would an Italian waiter be doing at a French café?_ Apparently, Maddie shared the same thoughts because she blurted out, "Italian waiter at a French café? London, are you sure you just read him wrong?" London tossed a sparkly purse aside as she called out, "Who's got the time? I was dying for a baguette anyway. It only cost two dollars since that Italian hottie thought _I _was the hottie." Maddie grinned. I knew that grin. It was that grin that came before a sarcastic remark. She remarked casually, "Two dollars, huh? That's probably how much your brain's worth anyway." London narrowed her eyes at Maddie and said, "Well, fine then! I can see _someone_ isn't getting a present from a gorgeous, rich girl _this_ Christmas!" Maddie threw it right back at her, "Nice try, London, but this particular _someone_ has money this year!" She pulled out wads of twenties and presented it in front of London's face.

"How'd you get that kind of dough?" I exclaimed, completely bewildered. Clearly, by the look on the other girls' shocked faces, I wasn't alone in my question. Maddie grinned and explained, "I'm about to become a brain neurosurgeon, if you hadn't noticed." Mary jumped up and down and cried out, "You got in the internship?" Maddie posed for the girls and announced with a very confident grin on her face, "Internship? Girl, you're looking at the youngest rookie ever to place assistant for Dr. Richard Rocheski!" Mary almost screamed right there and then. As for me and the remaining girls, we were still left slightly confused. I scrunched up my face and said, "And that would be a good thing, right?" London held a hand in the air as if she was trying to figure out a mathematical equation in her head. _Yeah right._ London? Math? No. She said, confused, "Is that some kind of doctor? 'Cause I don't understand a word you said." Maddie rolled her eyes and muttered, "So what else is new?" Before London could protest her ignorance of the whole subject, Maddie answered London's question, "Dr. Rocheski is a brain neurosurgeon. That's what I'm going to be in just a few more years." London grinned and said, "You're getting _pretty_ smartical all of a sudden, now aren't you?" Maddie replied, "Well, you know what they say- wait. Did you just say smartical?" London nodded her head with her big, innocence, puppy-dog eyes.

"Same old London," I said to myself with a small laugh. It was true nonetheless. London's lack of common sense was always amusing. I don't really blame her though for her grade school vocabulary and underdeveloped mind. The poor girl's been through enough to suffer from worse. Her mother and father divorced when she was pretty young, and her father, the owner of all the Tipton Suites, had too many wives. Each marriage always ended up in a nasty divorce and tons of court settlement, but since London's father has so much fame and prestige, he always gets his way. London never talks about that though. So since she never had a permanent guardian in her life, she never had any restrictions on what she can do. Like school, for instance. She practically never went, and the way she got into Harvard with daddy's billion-dollar briefcase doesn't amaze me. She is who she is, after all.

After shopping where I didn't get anything, all of us, excluding London, were carrying nine bags of gifts each. When we all arrived at Tipton, there were no bellhops to help us out with the misfortune of having a very wealthy spender as a friend. After we carried all the gifts to London's insanely expensive and roomy suite, Corrie and Mary left. It was getting pretty dark. Corrie wanted London to join them back at the dorm, but it looks to me that London had her own plans. I can't say that Corrie was too pleased to hear that.

The snow fell, and I could hear bells from a distance.


	12. Chapter 11

- Chapter 11 -

As soon as London and Maddie left to go to London's suite to check out all the stuff they bought, I got a text message from an old friend of mine. He asked me if I was down with him for a smoke alone. I didn't have the nerve to tell him I had quit. I know him. Plus, he was there for me when I was in trouble, so I had no choice. I went out there where it was freezing. He was by the alleyway between the barbershop and the old Mexican restaurant that closed down about a year back. He was rubbing his hands, and he was really fidgety. When I got there, he was jumpy. He looked different. His face was pale, and his eyes were sunken as if he hadn't slept in days. Between his index finger and his thumb was a half-smoked joint. He was sucking it hard. There was a scar on his nose. I peered at him closely.

"How long you been out here for?" I asked him. He squinted his eyes and murmured, "I don't know. Maybe a couple days, I think. I've run out of stuff. You got some on you?" He looked at me, and for the first time in my life, I saw the desperate side of him. I gestured to his nose scar with my hand and said, "What the hell is this? How long you been on coke without telling me?" His breathing became ragged and slow. His voice grew louder as he asked, "You got some on you or not?" I began to realize that he was ready to pounce. I backed up a few steps and held up the palms of my hands. I told him, about to panic a little, "I don't have anything. Stop raising your voice." He suddenly grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me to the wall. He began to yell, "Shut the hell up! Where the hell were you for a week? What were you doing?" When I didn't say anything, his glare grew stronger and he snarled at me, "I've been looking for you, but you just disappeared. Give me at least a crumb, I'm begging you!" He released his grip on my shoulders and started pulling out my pockets. He was _really_ desperate.

I pushed him away and yelled, "What the hell is wrong with you? I don't have anything on me! Stop body checking me!" He dropped his hands and turned to look at me. His eyes were hopeless. He yelled, "Where's your fucking stash? Where'd you hide it? Did you give it to the feds? You give it to the feds? Is that why you don't have it?" He was literally screaming into my face now. I was backing up, and I was trying to think of how to get out of this. His hand was in his back pocket. _Oh no. _From experience, I knew he kept a six-inch switchblade back there. He would use it too, in a heartbeat, if he thought someone was a threat to him. He yelled, "Give me your _something_, Zack, and you're not going to get sliced, alright?" As soon as he said that, that blade was out and about an inch away from my neck. He whispered dangerously, "You going to give it to me, or am I going to have to search your dead body for it?" I don't know what happened next, but I do remember that I made a grab for that blade. I remember feeling it through my fingertips as it fell and made a hole through the snow on the ground. I remember how his face turned pale and panicky, as he tried to back away from me.

He fell on his knees. His head was buried in his face as he screamed out, "Don't touch me! Don't you fucking touch me!" I wasn't anywhere near him when he said that. I wanted to leave. I wanted so much to run away from this. But I couldn't. He was there when I was hurting. So I called the ambulance, and I rode with him, telling him that everything was going to be alright. He was shivering and crying and telling me, "No, no, I did something, I did something, it was me. I was doing it." They called him certifiably insane. That's what the shit did to him. It wasn't long until the men in white took him away, yelling and screaming. He cried out to me, "Why have you forsaken me, Zack?" And I was crying. _Oh, man, is this the life I was living? Is this what I had become? _No wonder nobody liked us; no wonder nobody liked me. The walk home was long and cold, and the bitter memories didn't help a single bit. I was actually _scared_. I don't know why. Then that's when it happened. I got this sudden spasm of… pain? It was the most eerie feeling I've ever felt. It was a sudden image of a big truck that was coming at me. I was screaming, and I was on the ground trying to break free from whoever was holding on to me. I was yelling, and I saw Cody. He was looking at me, tears coming down his cheeks, yelling at me, "Look at what you've done!" And then I saw Maddie, angelic as ever, in the corner crying with her arms hugging her knees. She was saying, "Look at what you've become." _Look at what you've become._ My head was spinning. My hand touched something wet, but it felt warm, even when all around me was cold. I remember I was trying to touch my chest, but it was frozen stiff. I was trying to touch my heart, but it was frozen solid. I couldn't reach it.

_Fight it, Zack! _Someone was yelling at me. _Don't you dare give up on me! _I kept seeing darkness contrast with light, and it was blinding my eyes. _Fight it! Get up!_ I'm trying! But I can't fight this! I can't do this alone! I've tried! _I saw how you struggled._ What? _I saw how you struggled. But you're giving up now. _No. No! I'm still here! I'm not fucking giving up anything! _You're still in there. But something out here won't let you get out. You used to fight it all the time._

What happened? What happened? What the fuck happened?

Take me away from here.


	13. Chapter 12

- Chapter 12 -

"It was an epilepsy," a voice said in the distance. It sounded far away. "And an extremely severe one at that. I checked his file to make sure he wasn't born with a tendency to have epilepsies, so my beliefs were confirmed. I had suspected this to be related to drugs or alcohol, and when I ran a body check, I found several trace elements of amphetamines." Someone was crying. The voice continued, not reassuringly, "However, this does mean that this was recent. It appears as though this young man has been taking drugs for a while, and that these epilepsies are retaliations from his failing body." Someone else's voice asked, "Does that mean he's not going to be okay?" There was no response.

I tried to lift my eyes or lift my hands, but I couldn't. I couldn't. _What has happened to me?_ Someone was touching my arm. Someone was rubbing my arm. Someone was saying shakily, "Everything's going to be okay, Zack. Everything's going to be just fine. Don't worry about a thing." Someone was crying. Someone was touching my face. Someone was telling me that everything was going to be okay, even when it could never be.

When I awoke, it seemed like it only had been an hour. I found myself in a very similar looking room that I had been in the first time. There was no one around. Max wasn't there this time. There were the familiar tubes on my chest and arms, but I couldn't feel a thing. I felt strange. I felt as though last night hadn't really happened. After several hours, Maddie walked in. She didn't look too particularly happy, but then why would she be? In fact, she looked_ worried._ Her arms were crossed. I started, "I didn't do anything, if you wanted to know. I was walking back home, and I got this... this seizure or something." She asked quietly, "Why were you out there in the first place?" I hesitated and then explained carefully, "This guy was having problems. He called me up, and I though that I could help him. He's a drug addict, you know, and when I got there, he started freaking out and yelling. He was screaming at my face for more drugs, but I didn't have anything. I don't have that stuff anymore. I didn't want any trouble, so I called an ambulance and sent him to the hospital." When I looked back at her, tears were falling from her face. I was stunned. I called out to her, "Maddie, don't cry. He didn't die. He's going to be okay." She ran out of the room with her hands covering up her face. Someone else came in. Some guy. Then I realized who it was.

I nearly jumped off the hospital cot. It was _him_ from last night: the guy who almost killed me for drugs, who would've given me up for drugs. He looked really sheepish, wearing a knit cap that was pulled low, and his hands were in his pockets. He looked different from last night. He said softly, "Zack..." I could've killed him. He had _no right_ to talk to me after what he did. He was looking at the ground. I growled at him, "What do you think you're doing here? You back here to frame me for your shit?" That's when Drew looked back up. He said firmly, "I'm not framing you for anything. We were boys too long. I won't screw you over like that. You know I wouldn't, Zack." I dismissed his excuse as a futile attempt to pardon me. I growled at him, "Drugs mess people up. Drugs make people crazy." Drew held out a sheet of paper with a chart on it. He explained, "Look, I was referred by a doctor to check on my drug status. I'm not on that stuff. I hadn't been for a real long time now."

I couldn't believe him. That scene was too clear in my mind. He looked pained as he explained to me, "Your girlfriend called me up the minute you were admitted into the hospital. She was so freaked out that I could barely understand what she was saying, but I managed the words and strung them into a sentence. How long have you been having seizures?" I didn't know how to respond to that. I said the first thing on my mind, "What the hell are you talking about? That wasn't a seizure. That was real. I saw you clear as day. Why are you denying it?" Drew came by my bed. He looked extremely frustrated as he began, "I wasn't there. You were hallucinating me-" I yelled, "That was a seizure! You saying I'm bipolar or something? I'm not bipolar!"

I almost sprung up from the bed. He pinned me down. I almost forgot how strong he was. He was looking at my chest and the myriad of scars that plastered it. Almost in a whisper, he said, "How messed up are you?" A sudden urge of pain struck my lower back area. I can't describe how excruciatingly painful _that_ was. It was like a jolt of electric shock. I jumped up from the bed suddenly. Then my eyes started getting heavy again. I only distinctively remember Drew rushing out my ward and calling for help. It was like a still-frame of a movie. I had a sudden coughing fit, but it wasn't phlegm I was spitting out; it was a dark colored substance. I leapt off the cot and ran to the restroom in a wobbly manner. I started retching out the red contents into the toilet. _Oh, what the hell?_ Drew was screaming, "Somebody help! Somebody fucking help! He's throwing up blood!" I don't remember much after that. I remember feeling hands grabbing my ribs and dragging me somewhere; I remember struggling. I remember Drew pushing my body back into the cot. When I came to, I had leather belts strapping me down. When I looked up, I saw someone with her arms crossed, staring at me with gleaming eyes.

"Maddie?" I called out to her groggily. My vision was out of focus, and I couldn't really think that fast. I tried to reach out to her, but it was difficult when I was buckled in. It wasn't Maddie; it was Max. She turned away from me. She said, in an almost breaking voice, "Do you remember that one time in the hospital when you couldn't understand what everybody was saying?" I instantly shuddered at the thought. Yeah, that sounded _insane._ I said nothing. She continued as if she was really talking to herself instead of me, "And how you kept screaming that you couldn't understand what language we were speaking?" _No... _She turned and opened her mouth and then stopped short. She slid her hand over mine and then said softly, "I thought that it was only temporary." I sucked in breath and asked, "Isn't it?" Her eyebrows furrowed downward. She replied, "And remember how you supposedly saw Drew try to kill you for drugs? That was a hallucination." I don't know if I imagined this, but I think I just saw all the color drain from my face. I don't even know how I saw that. "No," I heard myself croak out. I pulled my hand away from Max's and tried to loosen the belt buckles. "No, that couldn't have happened to me. I quit. I stopped, remember? You remember, don't you, Max? Don't you?" She was crying silent tears.

That's when a doctor walked in. "Tell me it's not true," I pleaded with the doctor. "Tell me I didn't imagine everything. Tell me I'm not crazy!" He looked at me long and hard. After a few minutes, he finally spoke, a voice filling up the entire room, "Zack Martin? I have some grave news for you." I lied back down onto the cot, overwhelmed. He continued cautiously, "You just recently had a severe attack of a seizure, caused by a large amount of drug-related intake process. The doctor who surveyed you that day you collapsed from an almost overdose of drugs told me of how you couldn't understand what people were saying to you. And now you claim that a friend of yours who asked for drugs and you refused to give any to him attacked you. There were several witnesses present on that night, and they reported that you were alone and apparently talking to yourself. Your friend, Drew, had a confirmed alibi that he was with his grandparents." I said softly, "What are you saying? I'm crazy? I have multi-personalities?" He replied formally, "Your brain is deteriorating. You are having visual hallucinations that alter your state of reality." _What? Are you kidding me?_

The doctor held out a bottle of pills to Max. He instructed, "Make sure he takes three a day. Don't let him out of your sight. He is physically and mentally unstable now." Max took the bottle. She whispered to him, "Is he dying? Is Zack dying?" The doctor turned slightly to look at me. He responded slowly, "I really don't know." _So even you don't know, huh, doctor? Even you?_ He was gone before Max ever had a chance to say anything else. My arms hung limply by my side.

_I'm going to die._

The thought of it all just relieved me.

_Oh, finally. Finally! I'm going to die. I'm going to die!_

I started laughing to myself.

_I'm going to die! I'm finally going to die!_

Max shook me and cried out, "Why are you laughing, Zack? What's wrong?" I looked at her with a look of content, the first genuine look I gave her all day. "I'm going to die," I said to her. She released me and stared at me with a look of utter shock and fear. "I'm going to die, Max. You see now? All my troubles are over! I'm going to die!" And then a voice from faraway spoke to me softy.

_You can finally rest in peace now._


	14. Chapter 13

- Chapter 13 -

I was supposed to be kept in the ward until I was ready to walk. Max and Drew are always around now. Max didn't dare to call Maddie yet. And since Maddie wasn't informed of my current condition, neither were London and Mr. Moseby or even Mom and Cody. Good ol' Cody. And I couldn't hurt Mom again. But sooner or later, they'd know. _They always know._ Max brought a whole ton of books over. She told me to read them over and over again. I tried to. I really did. But the scariest part was that I just didn't get it. I really didn't. I'm not an idiot, but I couldn't understand what I was reading. I think that really upset Max. Drew, he doesn't talk much. He doesn't tell me stories about his grandparents or the good old days when we used to drink and eat good food together, and be bon vivants. I don't think he thinks they were so good anymore. He doesn't tell me of his days he spent going in and out of juvenile correctional facilities, hospitals, and rehabilitation centers. He just sits in the chair beside me and reads the books I'm not reading, thinks the things I'm not saying, understands the pain I'm not revealing.

I remember when I was young and stupid and tried to hit on chicks I never stood a chance with. Drew never partook in that kind of merriment. He was always smarter than me. I was never close with the party crew I rolled with; Drew was as close as it got. But then again, him and I weren't even that close to begin with. I just lie in bed, pretending to read books but really reminiscing. I remember Drew when he got back from juvenile hall. He didn't want to do anything with the stuff I was one. He never chilled with us, not even when there was a party or girls involved. He told me once, straight to my face, _You know who you are? You're white trash, just another fuck up, you know that? You think this is what life's all about? You're in the slums, man. And you're never getting out. _And I, drunk as ever, challenged him, _Is that who I am? You think I'm just another case? _He sized me up then. _That's exactly who you are._ Hey, I knew. I know. And I'm sorry.

He had tired eyes now, different from what I can remember. His hair has gray strands. He was always older than the rest of us. Now I know age had nothing to do with it. At daytime, I could barely stand to look at him. I couldn't even look at myself. But one night, when nobody was around, I called out into the darkness, "I'm sorry." And I heard nothing, not even the slightest motion that Drew acknowledged my apology. But it's enough. I know it's enough. _And I'm sorry._

A few days later, I was released from the hospital. I still didn't tell anyone about why I was in there. I told Mom that I was sleeping over a friend's house. She nodded, tired as usual. I didn't tell Maddie either. _But she doesn't see you like that. _I know. But she couldn't take that. Max, for the most part, left me alone. I couldn't deal with that kind of pressure every day. But I swallowed those pills, just like I swallowed my whole life, down the drain, and I didn't think much of it. I kept myself distanced from Maddie and London, even from Mom and Cody just like back in the days. On the nights where I was feeling the loneliest, Max and Drew took me away to a better world. But it wasn't good enough. I didn't see as much hallucinations as I thought I would, but when I did see one, it was almost always severe and resulted in a seizure or me passing out.

One night, when I was feeling particularly down, I wandered out the streets without the two guardians hovering on my back. I passed by quite a number of bars and old time joints where my friends and I used to hang, and I was definitely tempted to enter them again. _I just needed out._ Right before I reached the door handle, I felt a touch on my shoulder. When I turned around, I saw Maddie. She said softly, "Come on, Zack. Let's go." And I was glad. I followed her out. She, as mature as she was, seemed like a child then. I must've seemed like a child as well. She asked me, "How are you faring, Zack?" _Could be better, could be worse. _Are you sober? _Somewhat._ Can't you look at me? Can't you at least look at me? _No._ Why not? _Because I will lose myself again. I just found myself. I cannot lose myself again._ She looked at me with wide eyes. She tried to grin, tried to play it out, like, "Do you dodge bullets like you dodge questions?" But I saw the concern in her face. I wonder to myself, _Did Max tell you? Did Drew? _But in the end, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm still the one left wandering.

I tell Maddie, "You saw me when the world didn't." She only shook her head then and replied, "That wasn't me. That was you." But she knew. _She knew._ She knew that my life was limited. Max tells her. I don't mind though. She hangs with me sometimes. Perhaps she was hoping to let me be a part of her world. Nevertheless, she's there. Sometimes Max's with us, sometimes she's not. Sometimes Drew's not. When Max's not there, I guess I'm more prone to outbursts. So I wander, forever wander, like the ronin. I've always wondered what it felt like to be lonely and not have a friend in the world. _But that was me all along, wasn't it?_

Someone told me once, but I do not remember when this was or who was the source, that Rick was killed. He was run over by some drunken teenage boy and his girlfriend in a Chevy Impala. I don't think I ever got over that. When I saw Rick lying at the hospital, the same damn hospital, I almost lost it right there. I had absolutely _no self-control._ When I saw the punk ass and his chick walking out of the car accident scot-free, I almost killed him. And it was someone else who pulled me back, yelling out to me, "Just let it go, Zack! Let it go!" _Damn, _what was I supposed to let go? "You're part of this conspiracy, you know," The same voice would hover around me. "You follow this routine that they've brainwashed you to follow from day one. You're too stiff. Why do you have to be all tense and have all these emotions _all the time_?" He'd tell me in a frustrated tone, "Why can't you just let go?"

I went to Rick's funeral. _Damn, that sounds like a heresy. _I was _dragged_ to the stupid funeral. I _hated_ funerals. I went to so many, for friends who have died before their time. And for what have they accomplished? I sat in the pews of another church, listening to people speaking words of condolence to the grieving families. Can they seek comfort in that? To know that their children are dead? To know that their children can never return, even if they would give up their lives for them? I didn't know Rick too well, but he reminded me of the people who went away. That was why my life was so cold and the road I walked in was so desolate. _Am I supposed to cry with you?_ I cannot. Alas, I cannot. I cannot bring myself to do such a thing like that anymore.

"You have no idea," I reminded myself as I walked down the dirty, snowy sidewalk. Nobody was out; nobody in the right mind would be out this time of night. "You just don't have a clue. The only thing you know is a world that you've already left behind." I absentmindedly kicked a can across the street. "You're just this picture of perfect complacency, aren't you?" I snapped back in attention. "Well, you're not," I admonished myself. "You're nothing at all. Stop wishing. Stop lying to yourself. Just let it go." I felt a soft hand on my shoulder, a soft touch to my nerves. I instantly jerked away from the hand and screamed at myself, "Just let it go, Zack! Let it go!" It was like an echo. _I've heard this before._ Over and over again. _Zack, oh Zack._ Wide eyes, anxiety, stared back at me. _Oh, Maddie. _My arm throbbed suddenly. A new voice filled inside my head.

_Oh, Tim._

Tim?


	15. Chapter 14

- Chapter 14 -

I didn't know where I was when I opened my eyes. My surroundings were almost yellow, so pale and so dull that all I saw was white. I couldn't feel anything. I felt absolutely no emotion, no anger, no remorse. I was stuck; I was free. I smiled then, and, when I touched my eyes, I felt water. But strangely, I still felt relieved. It was the first time in my life I had ever felt this way. And then I saw the nightmare flash before my eyes.

It was an unfamiliar setting, a street absorbed by the pitch-black of night. Someone was walking very awkwardly in the middle of the road, staggering and swaying from side to side as if he was putting on a show or he could've been completely wasted. He stumbled and fell, only to regain his composure with his own two hands against the ground. He seemed so young, the boy.

I tried to reach out to him, but he didn't see me.

Or he didn't want to.

Then I saw another boy, an older one who was lean, his face with no emotion, who walked up to the first. The older boy could obviously see that the younger was heavily induced with _something _or another and was trying to reason with him to persuade him to stop. The younger one was laughing as he stepped out into the blind intersection when the stoplight turned green and the night was dark.

_I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but a young man was involved in a fatal vehicle collision with a black Mustang convertible coming at a hundred-and-twenty some odd miles. The good news is that the accident did not kill him. However, the car's speed made first impact upon his cranium, thus causing irreversible brain damage and an immense loss of blood in his head area. I'm sorry, but he's gone._

He never saw it coming.

"_Get up. Stand up, and be a man."  
_"_What would you know?"  
_"_The end of love is not the end of life."  
_"_Out of my way."  
_"_Just let it go, man. Let it go."_

What? _What?_

_Mr. Martin is currently suffering a heavy attack of trauma and emotional disturbance. Because of the violent loss of his friend occurred so close to him, he might fall to a permanent amnesiac state. Certain fragments of his past will return to him gradually, but the sad truth is that once patients undergo such a casualty, they never fully recover. Ever._

What the _fuck?_ I'm yelling. I'm yelling into the whole blank air, but I can't even feel myself breathe. I keep hearing the same voices in my head, the same formal ones describing my conditions and the same childlike voice yelling at me to be a man. To be a man. To let go. What the hell am I letting go? _Why can't you answer me?_

And then I saw it. The sleek, black car going a million miles a minute that was coming. The older boy pushing the younger boy out of the way. The hospital. The blood. The test tubes, the machines, the heart rates, the operation. I remember a hand grabbing my own, a blood soaked and deformed hand with a bone protruding out like a madman. I remember someone calling out to whoever was listening in a meek voice, "Don't worry, be happy."

_Don't worry, be happy._

What?

_Don't worry, be happy._

Oh my f-...

_I remember._

It was an accident. I was drunk out of my wits some random night, and Tim was trying to bring me back to earth. But he was giving me this whole song and dance about morals and a future, and I didn't want any part in it. I was laughing at him. I was stepping out into the open road, vulnerable so anyone can hurt me. And they usually do. A car. Some pitch-black car came out from no where, but I never saw it coming. I can only distinctly recall a flash of headlights, the sound of the wheel squealing as it hit the concrete viciously, and the sudden flurry of movement when I was shoved aside.

_I remember._

It wasn't supposed to happen that way. I know that Tim had everything going for him. He was supposed to have a future. He was suppose to grow up and die at eighty-five. _What the fuck did I do?_ He saved my life. I punched him in the side of his head, and he saved my fucking life. My now worthless and under appreciated life. I didn't deserve it. I didn't need it. _Why the hell did you go and get yourself killed? After all we've been through? After all we've done, you go and get yourself killed by some stranger in a Mustang? What the hell is wrong with you?_

What the hell is wrong with me?

_The young man obtained critical brain damage and an enormous loss of blood in his head. I'm afraid he will be confined to spend the rest of his days in a mental facility to recover from the accident._

Critical brain damage? Enormous loss of blood? Confined to spend the rest of your outnumbered days in a lock-up to recover from an _accident?_ I had it coming for me. I had it coming for me, did you hear me? Don't worry, be _happy?_ Be _happy?_ You think I'll be happy now, knowing what I've done to you? You're nothing now. You'll never be anything now!

_Luckily, Mr. Martin's amnesia will prevent him from remembering any of this. It's best if this accident remains hidden away. He might face another trauma attack if he discovers what happened to his friend._

I'm going to fucking sock you in the face! Stop talking about him! Stop telling me what happened to him! Stop telling me why I'm here! I don't want to know! I don't need to know! Get away from me!

Orbis non sufficit... _the world is not enough.  
__The world is not enough.  
__The world is not enough._

Shut up! Get out of my head!

_The world is not enough._

I felt my legs go limp.

_Oh my-... I know. I know._


	16. Chapter 15

- Chapter 15 -

I still don't know where I am. I've been floating in this empty space for what seemed like a few days now. I can't find an exit. I can't find anything even closely resembling home or people. I just keep drifting away, almost as if I'm flying. _My purpose of living._ I don't know. But I remember what happened. I remember Tim. I remember everything about Tim, things that I find myself surprised of ever knowing at all. The nights. The streets. The drinks. The boys.

That was how I met Tim, walking down the scattered city streets, devoid of any beauty and life. He saw me before I saw him. _He saw me._ And when I thought even that was enough, he saw through my front. But he never mentioned it. It was a frustrating friendship, one that I didn't know then why I endured through for so long. _But now I know._ He was a tall, mangy character with hair so roused and his face so tough that I swore I was looking at the face of the projects, the face of New York. He was _that _dirty. And it wasn't just his face either; it was his personality. Only when I was truly alone did he choose to venture out of the darkness. But he knew things about me, and I was never afraid. We tried to make it somehow. It wasn't even surviving. It was like swimming in the ocean, and no matter how many fish we caught, the boat still had a hole in the bottom, and we were still stranded.

I remember him telling me that I should believe _finis vitae sed non amoris, _the end of life is not the end of love, or something like that, that's what he said to me before I blew up in his face. I drank to forget his face and his memory. But it wasn't good enough. When I returned to the streets, he returned with me as well. I don't think anyone can ever truly forget something that he or she had never intended to forget in the first place.

Tim was the only guy who ever put up with me. People like me, we move fast in quick lifestyles. We never hold friends for long. We never know who's sleeping awake, who's peaceful or who's out to get you. Strangely enough, it often seemed like Tim kept up with me, but he was always ahead of me. It was my fault he started slowing down. And now my whole life after him was in vain, a lost cause. All I did to make up for it was to keep playing my part as a wayward traveler, my tales of woe bringing only tears to settlers' lives. I was never the one who could stay. Cody stayed. Max stayed. London stayed. Mom stayed. Dad... And Maddie. I kept going. I was always going. I never even knew where I was going, never even knew my own brother or myself. I was a runner, like Dad. Dad always told me that I had to have some solid ground in my life. Every time he told me that, he always had a different girlfriend. When Dad left, he claimed he was only seeking a temporary vacation. But Dad was a star track athlete back in his days. He knows all about running.

I tried to forget my past, but the minute I reminisce, it'd come back with a vengeance and would cry out, "You're slipping!" Then it'd slap be hard across the back with a two-by-four, and I'd lose myself again in the wretched contents that I retch in the kitchen sink.

I don't know what to do anymore, except maybe die.

Well, here's looking at you, sweetheart. Maybe you'll see me someday.


	17. Chapter 16

- Chapter 16 -

_Where am I?_

I felt someone touch my hand. I thought that the physical connection would make me jolt, but surprisingly, the touch felt very cool and light. But for some strange reason, I didn't seem to understand the situation I was in. My body couldn't comprehend all the signals my brain was sending it. I tried to stand, but all I could manage was a flutter in my eyes. I felt weak, completely drained. All around me were bright-as-white lights and some faces I couldn't quite make out.

_Mom, is that you? Brother? Maddie?_

I tried to get their images – _anyone, _it really didn't matter who – but all I could see was a blur of pixels.

_Tim, Tim, can you hear me? Drew, can you? Max?_

Someone's hands were gripping my arms very tightly and shaking me violently at the same time. I tried to make them release their grip, but I couldn't command my hands to lift. Or anything else for that matter. It was like I was paralyzed or something and that nothing was functioning except the thoughts scrambling around in my lopsided head. I wanted to scream. Just for that moment, I wanted to open my mouth and elicit a loud, provocative yell of fury that would get everybody's attention. And then we'd see who gets to laugh last, right?

I don't think I'm ever going to see what's the other end of this tunnel. St. Christopher, if I die in my sleep, please don't wake me up. I'll be fine. _I'll be fine._

"Zack, can you hear me? Zack, wake up," a girl pleaded with me as she tugged my arm and made me completely abandon my thoughts of an eternal sleep. "Zack, it's me Maddie. It's Maddie, remember? Wake up for me, Zack. Please, Zack, wake up!" Don't you think I want to? Don't you think it's the first thing on my mind? "Zack, please wake up! Don't do this to me, Zack! Not after all you've done, not after how far you came through! Don't you dare do this to me, Zack!" I didn't know that I was so important to you. All you did was flip your hair and walk to the airport, not once looking back. You forgot about me.

"Please wake up, Zack! Please just say something!" But I still love you. I admit it, you drive me up the _wall_ with your life. It _infuriates_ me how much you mean to me. I still want you as mine. I still need you. "One word, anything!" One word is not enough. One word wouldn't even begin to describe you, how much I feel for you. That's why I'm here. You're why I'm still here. You're why I didn't end it all yet. I could've just drunk some more. I could've just died from alcohol poisoning. From the way my life was going, I couldn't have cared less. If you had said the word, I would've done whatever you asked me to do in a heartbeat.

"Zack, your heartbeat's slowing down! Zack, stop it!" Forgive me, Maddie. Forgive me for all that I've done. I know I wouldn't.

"Zack, just open your eyes!" So here I am at the crossroads of my life. I can either hang on, fighting ounce for ounce like a wildcat, hoping my last strike will be the win home. Or I can let go. I wouldn't have to be attached to anything or anyone. I would not be bounded by my shortsighted limitations. I would be free. But that would mean I'd be losing you. After all these years, I'd be gone.

You are too heavy in my heart. I have to let you go, or I will fall. You understand, right? Can you hear me, Maddie? I'm looking right at you into your brown eyes. I blink once, or attempt to anyway. Did you get that, Maddie? Do you see?

In the faintest glimpses of my last moments, I heard my heart rate suddenly stop. The monotonous tone filled the now silent white room and bounced off all the walls and ceiling. And before the blackness took over my eyes, I felt someone dig into my hand once more.

Adieu, Maddie. I'm letting go.


	18. Chapter 17

- Chapter 17 -

When I awoke this morning, I felt so weary, like I'd been sleeping for days. So last night must've been a dream, nothing more than a figment of my imagination. A pity though. I was really looking forward to a better place, _anywhere else but here._ When Maddie walked in that morning, she almost freaked out. She was literally jumping all over the place as she tried to hug the life out of me. She almost succeeded too. She was _that_ happy. I wasn't. I didn't even try to hide my bland distaste as I constantly avoided eye contact and spoke very little and let my hands shake by my side. She must've noticed _something_, but she said not a word about it. She tried to get me to eat. The food was horrible, so I guessed that I must've been in another hospital again. It seems like my whole life was spent in and out of these places.

"You have to eat something, Zack," Maddie motioned me with her eyes. How about no? I had no appetite, not for the lousy food and most definitely not for her. I'm not going to waste any more of my life trying to chase these wavering things. She eyed me in a strange manner as she just walked away with the food. I suppose she suspected something was wrong, but what is there left to do? Life goes on. When she returned, she tried to act casual about it. She tried to ask me if I had any dreams or anything like that. So I told her that I did actually have a dream. I explained to her that it was in this room and that she was there with me as well. I said that I died in that dream. She looked bewildered and asked whether or not I really wanted to leave that badly. I didn't really know the answer to that question, even when my mind kept urging me to say yes. She tried her best to hide the slightly hurt look on her face, and I tried my best to avoid confrontation altogether. This was definitely harder than it looked.

After she left to do whatever it is she did, Mom swung by and so did the rest of the Tipton crew. They were so excited to discover that I was alive, thank goodness, but they were very careful not to mention anything more to me. They didn't even have the common decency to update me on my current situation, as they preferred to keep me in the dark, as usual. But I didn't pester them for more information. I've caused enough trouble as it is. Mom seemed to have some new wrinkles I've never noticed before, and Cody looked weary and older than he was supposed to be. _So this is what I've done._ _So this is who I am. _

Conversation was light and awkward. The minute I had the ward to myself, I let out a breath of relief. It was uncomfortable with such a large crowd in a small room. Maybe I'm so suddenly claustrophobic now. Great. It's not like I never had any _other_ problems to deal with. I slept all day. I've lost all track of what day it was. I've never once looked out the window or even a calendar. I don't know want to see how much time I have left in this world. I still have so much to do. But the way I see things, it always rains in my dreams. It always snows. There's always cold. I hate the warmth, I can see that now. I'd always have to live wondering when the flames would get put out and when I'd have to return to the bleak existence of my life. No, I'll stick with the cold, thanks. I'm used to it. I'll never have to worry if things will get worse. I'm already at the bottom, alright? Stop throwing me a shovel.

The doctor told me that I have to stay here for a few more days, just in case. Yeah, because all I can do now is die, right? My temper has grown reasonably tighter, my patience shorter. I copped a bad attitude, and now all I do is gripe about the littlest things. I'm just looking for attention, I suppose. But try as I might, I couldn't refuse any visits from Maddie. Even when my mind told me I had no other choice, I kept letting her in. I don't know what love is, I realized. I'll never know what love is. With this sudden epiphany, my spirits hit low. My life hit low. I don't have much else to do. I've built my entire foundation upon Maddie, and now I've let her go, I have nothing else left. So Maddie comes in and looks at the ground, and I listen. Or I try to, at least. Not that she ever has much to say. She doesn't. I don't mind.

I can't remember my dreams anymore. I mean, there are bits and pieces floating around, but all these fragments don't come together and make a sentence. Yesterday, Max came over and gave me this huge hug that I couldn't break away from. Not that I was trying because with her, I felt safe, even when the rest of these walls were closing in. Max touched my forehead and pushed back some of my hair, which grew in long strands since the last time I cut it was who-knows-when. She said, "You're not looking too bad there." I asked, "What did you expect?" Max's eyes reached mine, and she replied, "Honestly said, I would've accepted anything. But it would've been a shame if you had let your face go. You were always good-looking." I grinned and said, "Right, my only talent." Max chuckled lightly as she took a good look around my ward. She took a long pause before finally saying with contempt, "Yeah, I can't say the same for this stink hole. You could've done better." She looked directly at me. I couldn't bear to return her lingering gaze. I turned away.

_You could've done better._

I could've done better. Yeah, I could've done better. I should've done better. But I didn't. So here I am. Max said softly, "Sorry, Zack. I didn't mean in that way." I shook my head and answered to her, "You don't need to apologize to me." Max then reached for the doorknob, her way of saying goodbye. It was never one of her strong points, I'm sure. Never one of mine either. She then hesitated before turning to me and saying, "Don't leave us yet, Zack." I gave her most reassuring smile and said confidently, "I'm not going anywhere." Whether she believed me or not, I'll never be clear of. She simply walked out and closed the door behind her, leaving me alone to my thoughts – and regrets. _There were always too many._

I've never felt this way before. I didn't really know the first thing to do to cope with this – this _loss._ This overwhelming defeat. _So I am still young, still the same immature Zack who can't make his life go any faster because he keeps his head in the past._ I'm so sick and tired of the same shit running through my head. So the next day, or was it the day after that, I'm not too sure, I looked Maddie in the eye and told her straight up that I've quit trying to chase after her. I told her that I've quit running. Maddie simply replied, "There'll be others, Zack." I only shook my head and said, "There was never anyone else. You were all that I see." Wasn't that _obvious _to her? I mean, did I really not make that clear enough? Maddie looked me in the eye, the first the whole time I was in this hospital, and said, "You're too young, Zack. You don't understand." I nodded. I should've _killed_ myself for agreeing. Maddie didn't looked relieved or at peace. She only gave me this small, sad smile. She looked away. That's when I said to her, "Say something to me." When she was still slow to respond, I exploded, completely unintentionally. Or maybe not.

"Say something to me! Do you know where I am? Do you know what I have? Do you know where the hell I'm going? You don't know! Say something to me!" I yelled. Then I tried to calm myself down when I saw Maddie's shaking face. "I deserved it, I know. After all that I've done, I deserved it. I'm worthless. My raison d'etre? My purpose of living? I'm just another wash-out looking for a second chance, right?" Maddie still said nothing to me. I continued unabashed, my voice thick and heavy as I rambled on, "I waited for you, Maddie! I waited for five years! I need a break, and all you can tell me is that I don't understand? Well, you know what, Maddie? You're right. You want to hear me say that? You're right! I'm wrong, like I always am! I don't understand! And you know what? There will never be a time when I will. So let me just die now, alright? Get the hell out." With the final two sentences in place, I finally broke her. Tears were running silently down her face. I looked away.

I said, my voice lower now, "Go ahead and hate me. It won't make a difference. Go ahead and trash me. I deserve it." Maddie only took my rough hand and stroked it with her soft, nimble fingers. She said in a small, tight voice, "No. I don't hate you. I'm sorry. _I'm sorry._" She wrapped her arms around me. I said nothing. She should've told me off for all the things I said. I didn't really mean half of them; they just sort of stumbled out. I said to her, "Maddie, you make me wish I were a better person." _Now you know, don't you?_

"Me too."


	19. Chapter 18

- Chapter 18 -

I found out that today was Thursday by the nurse who brought in small desk calendars for patients. Thursday. December 24. I thought two weeks had flown between my last hospitalizations, but it's only been five or six days. December 24. Christmas Eve. Wow. It's been a long time since then. I was able to walk on my feet again today, but I felt weaker. My energy was drained, and, when I looked in the mirror in the restroom, my face had turned pale, my eyes no longer sharp as I had always pictured them to be. My skin was dry and felt rough. My hair had _grown. _It wasn't rock-star long, but it didn't exactly comply with military regulations either.

The same nurse who brought in the calendar also forced me to swallow some pills. I always seem to be eating that kind of stuff. The minute I was out of that ward, I didn't look back once. I didn't have the heart to. While I was stumbling out of the door, a little gift shop (in a hospital?) stood right beside me and beckoned me in. In one of the shelves was a pair of sharp-looking scissors...

I cut my hair in the handicap restroom on the first floor. I didn't really know why, but I didn't stop myself either. As snippets of my hair began to fall to the ground, I tried to make face with myself in yet another mirror. As I washed my face in the sink, I thought about my next move; I just decided to walk out without getting an official release. My walking was limp and staggering, like a doddering old man. I was embarrassed, but nobody took any notice. It _was_ Christmas Eve after all. Outside held no sunlight. The streets were paved with snow, and the road had melting glaciers of dirty ice lined up. I walked through the deserted parking lot and into the side of the street. I wondered if busses ran this late this time of year. They didn't, but it was just as good: I didn't have any money on me. I was wearing a thin t-shirt and a pair of jeans, no jacket. I was supposed to be freezing, but I felt nothing. I scratched my head without tangling my fingers into the thick strands of hair this time and began walking straight to wherever I needed to go.

A star that was in the sky shined pretty brightly that lit up my path. I followed it, passing by closed toy stores and fashion boutiques. I tried to imagine myself in one of those stores, waiting in line to buy a gift, thinking only about the warm house I can go home to and the people who still love me. As I exhaled to sigh, I saw my breath in a cloud of white air, like smoke from a cigarette. I was never too fond of those things, but right now, all I thought about was the warmth in the light. I didn't know where I was going. I stopped by an abandoned bus bench and sat down, weary from all that walking. I must've been trudging for a few hours, at the very least. As I rested my head against the side, I closed my eyes.

_"You think she wants to see you like this? You think she'll give you a second thought if she ever sees you like this?"  
__"Who cares what she thinks? She doesn't mean shit to me. I'm better off without her."  
__"Look what your obsession has done to you. Just let it go, Zack. Let it go."_

And I did let it go, I remember. Right into the side of his head.

_"Think about her, what she wants."  
__"If I think about her, then who's going to think about me, huh? Who's going to give a fuck about me? Nobody's looking out for me. I have to look out for myself."  
__"You always worried about yourself, you think you'd give a shit about her? Who's going to care about her?"  
"That's why I can't be with her! Because I don't deserve her! You get it now?"  
__"Then let her go, Zack. Let it go."_

I didn't go to his funeral. I wouldn't have known what to say to his folks. I wouldn't have known what to say to myself.

When my eyes opened again, I found myself staring at a huge building. It looked like a modern hospital, nothing I wasn't familiar with already. I must've walked for _miles._ I was tired and out of breath. My arms were red and my face, I imagined, was pale white like the moonlight. I rubbed my hands unconsciously – I wasn't cold yet. I looked up again and saw the same star hovering above the hospital. I tried to recollect what it meant, what any of this meant. I looked at the entrance door and then behind me, a passage home. Not a safe passage, granted, but it was some sort of escape. I didn't even know why I needed to escape; I just felt this way. I looked at the door then back behind me then at the door again and back behind me. I walked through the door.

To my surprise, there were a myriad of doctors and orderlies running around in some frenzied panic. I was hardly noticeable amidst the chaos there. I overheard one disgusted doctor say to his colleague, "I don't know why, but something about Christmas brings the worst out of these mongrels." To my right, I saw a patient with a sheet covering his – or her – face with blood dripping from the sides. I almost gagged and was about ready to go home when a figure in a white coat stopped at the sight. This man was of the very few who was not running around in a hurry to get somewhere. He looked directly at me and then said, "Excuse me, if you don't mind me asking, what is your name?" I was startled by this man's polite question. In my life, I have not met many who were willing to even give me the time of day. Suspicious as always, I asked him, "Who wants to know?"

The doctor grinned, the first genuine emotion directed toward me in a while, and said, "My apologies. I would like to introduce myself to you, but you would probably not remember me as it is the last time we met, you were not exactly in a pleasant mood." I stood my distance and replied, "I don't know what you're talking about." The doctor said, "Excuse me for just one moment." He left me standing as he walked over to what I assume to be his office. When he returned, he was holding a thin manila file with a small tab that read... my name. I held my breath as the doctor said, "Mr. Martin, is it? Come with me." I began, "I think you better walk me through this before I go do anything I don't want-" The doctor dropped a notch in the volume of his voice as he said, "I don't think you want me to be proclaiming any of this information out in the open."

So I walked with him to his office, and as he closed his door, I felt an instant gust of cold air breeze through me. It was a chilling sensation, something I thought I had grown accustomed to. It was different this time though. It felt more... _familiar._ All together too familiar. The doctor asked me, "How are you, Mr. Martin?" I thought that was a strange question, but I replied, "I'm good." He had a sad smile as he said, "You've been better?" I nodded. This conversation... it was too normal. The doctor thumbed through the papers in the file and stopped at one particular page with some interest – or disinterest, I was not too sure. He looked at it for a long time before saying, "Mr. Martin, do you know what happened one year ago in this very hospital, in this very city?" My heart dropped. I shook my head.

"You were at the scene of a fatal auto accident," he said. I immediately sunk low on a chair that was coincidentally placed right below me. The doctor continued, "Your friend was the victim, and the car that was speeding at an enormous amount collided into him." I was shaking my head and my hands were gripping the side arms of the chair. The doctor kept going, "He suffered intense brain damage. Do you remember any of this?" He then looked up at me, concern written all over his face. I felt my voice croak like the first night I came back to the world, "So he is dead? My friend, he is dead now? He is gone?" The doctor replied softly and slowly as if he was choosing his words carefully, "No, Mr. Martin. Your friend is still alive and has resided in this facility for a year and ongoing." I jumped up and said, "He's _here?_ He's still alive and he's _here?_" I didn't know what else to say.

The doctor simply nodded and beckoned me to follow him. When I entered the forgotten room, I was not ready for what I was about to see. I saw _him_, my friend, my brother, all that I had, all that I risked, all that I threw away. I couldn't even breathe. My hands were tightened on the doorframe, and my knuckles became white. I couldn't fucking breathe. The patient on the hospital cot looked so thin and sickly, I could've easily broken him in two by laying even a finger on him. His face was ghost white. He had heavy bags under his eyes and deep circles. But he looked peaceful. Yeah, he looked peaceful. Though he looked so much older than he really was, he was at peace with himself. I couldn't even move toward him. There were tubes and water bags tied up around him. He looked like a walking case of cancer. I didn't even want to go near him in fear that I might the rip the very thin cord of life that was holding him together.

"He cannot eat or drink," explained the doctor who was in front of me with his back faced toward me. He was doing his usual patient check or whatever it was. "He was paralyzed from the neck down from the accident. He has never spoken a single word before, not even when he came here. And he's been a coma as well and might never wake up. He's weak. To say truthfully, he may not last any longer here." I wasn't even really listening to what the doctor was saying. But he looked at me with a serious expression and said, "He's been holding on for a long time, Mr. Martin. He's going to let go now." I said nothing. The doctor said nothing as well as he left the room. I released my grip at the doorframe to let him pass, and as I did, I involuntarily moved forward. I glanced wearily at the tubes and the little box machine next to the cot that was beeping.

"Tim," I began. _Oh, fuck._ "Tim, it's me, Zack. Remember me?" Tim's eyes remained closed, and the peace did not elude him. I continued, "Tim, you look good. I thought that you'd look like shit, but you don't. You look like you never died." I tried to reach out to him as I kept talking, "So how you been, huh? Bet you can't wait to get out of here, right? I heard the food blows big time, but hang in there, alright? I'll get you out of here soon." It could've just been my imagination, but I instantly felt Tim's breathing grow a little more strained, a little more accentuated than before. I said, "I've been okay too. I've been getting better. I've been improving. Tim..." I reached out and lightly nudged him on the shoulder. Tim's eyes instantly lit up. His eyes _opened._ He was _awake. _

I didn't know what to say then, but I did back off. I began to ramble, "Tim, I got tell you that I'm sorry. This was all my fault. I fucked up, and you had to pay the price for my mistakes. I should've been a man. I should've listened to you, but I was weak. I fell to temptation every time." Tim just looked at me, his eyes now dull and listless, no longer burning into my own. He just listened attentively. I confessed to him, "After the accident, from what I can remember, my life wasn't worth living anymore. Every day I only harbored one intuitive wish; I wish it were me that got hit by that car that night. I wish it were me that got brain damage. I wish it were me lying in that fucking hospital cot, not you! I wish you were alive! I would do anything – fucking _anything_ – to trade places with you! Do you get it? I'm so sorry, Tim." Silent tears were running down my side as I jammed my shaking hands into my pockets. I said softly, "I'm so sorry, Tim." I hung my head in shame.

I then said, "You know, I've been having a lot of trouble differentiating between what is real and what is not, between reality and my dreams. But you're real, right? I'm real, right?" I was grabbing his hand for confirmation, but Tim only looked at me, his eyes growing sharper by the minute, his brows furrowed. He opened his mouth.

"Don't..." he said. "Don't... worry. Be... happy."

I looked away. He repeated, "Don't... worry. Be... happy... Zack." I felt his hand growing colder by the second and realized he was actually letting go. I grabbed his hand tighter and said, "Don't let go! I just found you, don't let me lose again!" Tim gave me this knowing look and said, his voice growing fainter, "Let... go. World... enough. Good... enough... for... you. Tim... dream." I gasped, "_What?_ You're real, _aren't you?_" Tim only replied, "Tim... dream. Zack... real." I tried to get him back. I yelled in frustration, "No! No dream! You are _real!_"

"World... enough. Be... happy."

I cried out, "You're slipping!"

"Let... go."

_"Lately I've been having a lot of trouble trying to sort out my dreams from what's real."  
__"For you, life just isn't good enough, and dreams just seem to serve as some sort of substitution for reality."  
__"Something like that."  
__"Why do you keep holding on? You know, one day you're going to have to let this go. But by then, it'll be too late."  
__"How can it be too late?"  
"Because instead of you letting it go, it will let go of you." _


	20. Chapter 19

- Chapter 19 -

In the morning, I awoke in a bed that was not mine. It did not belong to the hospital either, for I didn't recognize the peeling yellow walls or the pungent smell of medicine. I awoke in the usual daze I had grown to be familiar with. I only faintly recall stumbling in at the late hours to some unknown location. All I could remember in the clearest illumination was Tim's face before he died and the knowledge that I let him go, how I let everything else go. But my memory was eluding me at each passing minute, and I knew that my time was coming. I knew that it was not far from Tim's. All I had now was patience, the ultimate test of time.

I yawned and ruffled my messy hair. As I was about to get up and find out where I was, a figure stopped me in mid-movement. Out sprawled on a couch was Maddie. She looked positively wiped out. I figured that this must've been her place. I must've been _knocked out_ to come here, of all places, to seek solace in sleep. Carefully, I crept off the bed I had been sleeping on and headed toward the door. I still didn't know where I was in Boston – if this was even Boston at all, but I didn't want to wake her. _Creek. Creeeeeek._

"Zack?" Too late. I stopped in mid-creek and said, "Sorry to wake you up. I was just leaving." Before I could leave peacefully, Maddie yawned and sat up straight. She asked, "Already? What's the rush?" I said, "I shouldn't be here. This is not my place." Maddie only looked at me with widened eyes and started to say, "What are you talking-?" But before she could even finish her question, I interjected, "I should be home with my family. I'll talk to you later, okay? But thank you for taking care of me last night." She didn't say anything then, but as I shuffled out of her apartment, I think she tried to wish me a merry Christmas.

I did actually go home this time. But I didn't tell them what had happened or anything about Tim. I think they were under the impression that I was with the Maddie the entire time. I'm not even sure what they know, but it's nothing to me. When I was walking home and feeling the brisk Winter air slicing into my lungs and ribs, I just knew that if not now, there would at least be no more time after today. I just didn't know how to break it to my mom and my brother. I wanted to tell them of what I needed to do, not of what will happen. But I told them I was going to leave tonight with Dad so I can sort things out. I had called him the night before; I didn't have the heart to tell them it'd be a one-way trip. Not even Dad knew of my condition. But perhaps Mom knew better and approved of it only because it was my last request before I really left for good. Cody... I hugged him so hard when I finally saw him. I spent the entire day with him and Mom. And when I wasn't in the festive mood for Christmas, a holiday that I usually disregarded as a tedious bore and somewhat of a chore, I penned some thoughts down on a notebook. I wasn't really thinking, but when I saw what I had written, it made me sad.

I really was trying to forget her, but she kept running back to my mind. But I knew this was the only option I had left, and no matter how much I will regret it, I have to stick to it or I will hurt the people I love again. When the evening departure time grew near, I approached Maddie at the lobby of the hotel. We went outside in front of the Tipton, and that's when I gave her the sheet of lined paper I had torn out from the notebook. The handwriting was a bit messy and illegible at times, but I said to her, "Look, I'm leaving, but I wanted you to have something from me before I left." She had said, "Where are you going?" I said, "It's not too far from here." She held the paper tightly as she looked at me with a softened expression and said, "You'll come back though, right?" I only shook my head and, even though it was killing me, I replied, "I can't. The place where I'm going, I can't leave. But maybe you'll see someday." She asked me when. I told her, "Sometime when you sleep." She hugged me then, fiercely wrapping me in her embrace. I only stood there.

Unfortunately, I'm not the type of person who's good at saying goodbye. I'm the sort who lingers long after exits are due, letting in the cold air. When Maddie finally let me go, she had tears in her eyes and my letter now snugly in her pocket. I paid my respects to Mom and Cody, to London, to Esteban and Arwin, and even to Mr. Moseby. They looked weary for me at yet another farewell. Mom cried. Cody stood there bravely, his hands in his pockets, his face hardened. I remembered my vows of brotherhood… forgotten once more. But this is the best for everyone. I know I'm being selfish, but what can I do now when all of this has been done?

As I waited outside in the slushy snow for a taxi, I heard Maddie whispering to me, "Don't go." It could've been my imagination, but when I saw city lights envelope me, I preferred the fight with the imaginary heroes than anything.

_Nunc scio quid sit amor._

_Now I know what love is._


	21. Epilogue

- Chapter 20 -

(Zack's note to Maddie)

_To you_

_To you, I thought of this moment all of my days  
For you say that I am young and do not know love in its ways  
Because I know it can't happen, I get it; you told me before  
So now it seems as though I cannot find any peace in this war  
But did you know that sometimes when I think of you, I feel so alone?  
I used to wonder what you were doing at the place you called home  
And I wondered if you wondered what I was doing those nights  
And I wondered if you wondered about what you left behind_

_To you, love is four words long, but to me it holds a meaning  
So deep and so complex, I swear that I must be dreaming  
I'm standing on the other side of a line that you drew  
And I'm drifting, forever drifting; if only you knew  
How much I feel for you: the lost, the anguish, the years  
Forever seems too short when we have nothing but fears  
I only have my word in this world; that's what we're after  
The pain that I live and breathe, hidden behind the laughter_

_To you, I know that one day you will attain the dreams of your past  
I hope that as long as you keep living, you'll never look back  
And as long as we keep walking on this road that's been paved  
I no longer would wonder if you'd ever feel the same way  
Because if you don't, that's okay, my life was meant to move on  
It's like a train, never stopping until the day that I'm gone  
I'll leave and go on my way; I'm sure you will too  
But I won't say goodbye anymore, though I'll still miss you_

_To you, sometimes I dream of your face and your soul  
How underneath you're just a person searching for a place to go  
Because I understand you're only human, part of this twirl  
Time separates us, but if only we could stop time in this world  
Then perchance we could seek what lovers had sought  
Though we can't be, we won't be; I know the words you forgot  
To the song in my heart, so I play it with ease  
I walk alone in this world, and I can never find peace_

_To you, I envision a dream of some cold, rainy morning  
Bleak and grim like my fate; this must be a warning  
Not to get too close, but I feel your heart when you're here  
And when you're not with me, I feel your spirit in the air  
Even though the distance is far, your heart is beating  
In my mind, in my soul, I can feel it when I'm sleeping  
But I can't have you, you can't have me, you can't be mine  
And I can't be yours, so I sit here, and all I got is time_

_I still wish you'd love me back_


	22. Author's Note

For all those have enjoyed this story, I have decided to write a sequel titled "My Brother's Keeper," which can be found on my page. I realize that this story is 3-4 years in the making, but this would've been another skeleton in my closet, so to speak, if I didn't do it. For those of you who were left confused and baffled by the contents/ending of the first story, I hope this will shed some light and clear up some misunderstandings. Kind of (no promises).


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